As If My Life Were Little Pieces
by AResidentGhost
Summary: Series of drabbles centered around Erik. Mainly Leroux based, each 100 words.
1. She Killed My Heart

**She Killed My Heart**

I had often thought my heart as ice and incapable of love. I am not usually proven wrong; however, this time I was in the worst possible way. I lived for so many years without love or initiated social contact, and now that I have tasted it, my heart broke when I realized the truth: my little blonde Christine could never live in the shadows as I do. A creature of the light, her happiness is what matters—her heart belongs to another, and I have let her go, even though it has broken my will to live and my heart.


	2. Look Not Upon Past Beginnings

**Look Not Upon Past Beginnings**

Beginnings are presumptuous, he always said, _l'Hombre_ that is, as are introductions. Beginnings are for the past, the unrealistic, and the hopeful. One should never look back nor dwell upon the past—a lesson _I_ have come to embrace enthusiastically. I may never see the stinging light of day again, but I know I will not resent it, having come to terms with fate long ago.

And so, from a beginning with all odds against me, I have rejected the notion of beginnings for the surety of my death. For the future holds many things, but always, always inevitable, spectral Death.


	3. An Angel In The End

**An Angel In The End**

To think, that my death would feel like this! A heavy heart, burdened soul, and a conscience long thought dead, all from a myriad of untold and unconfessed sins on my part! All to be released by the pleasant embrace of Death!

Surely my spirit _should_ be sinking, after all, I am no saint. Much blood lies on these hands. But I feel a great lightening in my soul. Have I already been judged and purified?

What a wonderful feeling, it is, to know that oneself is and always has been, loved… For how else could I become an angel?


	4. Never A Father

**Never A Father**

At my age, one would _expect_ a man or woman to have _children_ at least, if not grandchildren or even, perhaps, great grandchildren. But, unluckily,ch that would be an impossibility for one like me.

For one thing, I'd hate to see what my offspring would look like. Odds are, any children I would produce—_if_ I myself am _not sterile_—would probably end up with my very gruesome features. And, that is only if any woman _would_ lay with me… Which I highly doubt will ever happen—_willingly or not_. And I wouldn't dare have my way and leave any witnesses alive…


	5. Oranges

**Oranges**

I remember their sweetness, their light, refreshing juice—especially in the Persians' lovely frozen treats. Tangy, tart, or sweet, they were a wonderful treat. Always fresh from the citrus groves, a treat reserved for the royalty.

What am I reminiscing about, you ask? It is the humble, noble orange. The rind reminds oneself of the sun, a celestial being I have renounced in favor of the concealing shadows. The orange, a delicious fruit, is hard to find in the crowded daylight markets in the streets of the jewel of France. I yearn for the taste of this fruit from the East.


	6. Apollo's Lyre

**Apollo's Lyre**

As I watched the object of my obsession and ministrations turn to her lover and tell of what happened below, I couldn't bear this savage torture to my heart. I crush a monstrous sob as she recounts the past events. Clinging to Apollo's Lyre high above the roof of the Paris Opera, I cannot help but release a soft moan as she recounts the disaster of that horrid night. Although it breaks my heart in two and fuels my madness, I must admit I've lost, or risk endangering the love of my life. I loose my howl above Paris' streets.


	7. In Puruit of Beauty

**In Pursuit of Beauty**

Though they were the darkest months, perhaps, of my life, they are my most treasured. Those months of madness, the months I spent in love with and pursuit of you, I will never relinquish my memories.

Though the endless disappointments drove me to new heights of madness, I still love you and always will, even though I know you can never return the love of this living corpse.

Go, run off and wed your boy, Christine. It des not matter to me, really, and why should it? A corpse has no feelings, so why should you care if it hurts?


	8. Rhapsody In Blue

**Rhapsody In Blue**

I've been so sure of myself. How could I have been so wrong? Was it my madness that drove me to release my only love? Did my madness drive me to see the proverbial light? The realization that eventually led me to this black mood that has befouled me and driven me to despair?

How can I escape this sinking feeling of mine? I am caught in a downward spiral, and I know not where it will end. I fear, though, that this melancholia will lead me to my death. And that is somewhere I do not wish to venture—yet.


	9. Solitude And Darkness

**Solitude And Darkness**

I've lived these past few years in the depths of these cellars, my eternally night-bound passages in a world of darkness—unlike my house by the lake, however. A world that, outside my hidden door, is colored in shades of blacks and grays, along with the omnipresent, eerie blue glow of the lake. Not a problem for my eyes, and me as I have the uncanny ability to see in the dark. My house provides a welcome relief from the dreariness of the shadows, although I do welcome their excellent hiding qualities. Welcome to my colorless world of darkness and solitude.


	10. Born To Sorrow

**Born To Sorrow**

His birth was marked with tragedy and horror. He was born to a life of pain, abuse, and sorrow. His mother rejected him in disgust upon being shown his countenance, and his father left, to never return. His birthday was never a day to be celebrated, and instead his family observed a day of mourning. This confused the poor child and led him on the path of his almost obsessive morbidity. His birth was said to be a sign of the Apocalypse. However, the child born that day was destined to become both a madman and a genius named Erik.


	11. Bruises

**Bruises**

When I was young, I was rarely at peace and was often beaten by those around me. Why? They often thought I was the cause of any and all of their common, petty, everyday troubles. If the crops failed, it was because I "cursed" them—sometimes said to be from me walking or riding by, although I very rarely left the house; me looking at them, giving them the "evil eye"; or just by simply living, as I was considered evil, a monster, or a demon. Many nights I went to bed beaten until I was covered with welts and bruises.


	12. Family? What Family?

**Family? What Family?**

Christine, you ask of my family? I have none—at least, that I know of anymore or care to remember or associate with. I do not even have a familial name, Mademoiselle Daaé.

Oh what _fun_ it must be, Christine, to have a family that _loves_ and cares _for_ and _about_ you. Oh—I'm _sorry_—I forgot your family is all dead. I did not mean to make you _cry_. _Please forgive me, _my dear.

If anything, I do not dare wish upon another the pain and humility that was forced upon me during my childhood. Death's my family, and always has been.


	13. Goodbye Sunrise

**Goodbye, Sunrise**

I fear I shall not live to see another sunrise. If I die now, it shall not be in vain. For I have learned the ultimate lesson: It is better to love something and let it go than to love something or someone and keep it chained up away from view and the light of day.

Sometimes, the best and hardest thing to do is to let what you love be free. "If you love it, set it free," as they say. I have done this, even though I know it will likely cause my death. So, goodbye, beautiful sunrise.


	14. Hello, My Cruel Master

**Hello, My Cruel Master**

Death is not kind, least of all to me. I have born his mark since birth, yet I have never found the grace of his soul-cleaving scythe. I see those around me fall to his spectral blade, including my few loved ones and enemies alike, but always, always he seems to pass my horrid existence by. I age year after year, my body old and tired, and yet, I know I shall die for real this time if my Christine denies me again…

I feel Death nearby, I let her go, and my heart cannot take anymore.

Hello, Death…


	15. Lover's Triangle

**Lover's Triangle**

Some say a triangle is a perfect form. Sure, it makes sense in mathematics and architecture, but when applied to life and love? It is nothing but a disaster waiting to happen, especially when applied to relationships. Someone is always _bound_ to lose, believe me, I _know_ from _experience_.

And when one loses in a situation like that, said person is bound to become at least upset, perhaps even mad with jealousy or grief. That, my dear reader, is when the "loser" becomes quite dangerous. If you don't watch out, he (or she) may take out their rage on you.


	16. My Enemies Have Fallen

**My Enemies Have All Fallen**

One by one, they have fallen—many by my hand, or rather, the business end of my Punjab lasso. At times, I myself have become the hunted, the wanted man, and have tasted what those who get in the way of me and my plans feel before they, too, die.

At times I have felt invincible, and believed myself to be so, as I am sure my victims also felt. But I never felt pity for them, my enemies, and I still don't. Perhaps I never will. I've never felt remorse or guilt for my actions towards my enemies' quick deaths.


	17. Spilled Milk

**Spilled Milk**

I lay here, in my coffin-bed awaiting the respite of eternal night—my death. I reflect upon my past deeds, wishing—for that is all I can do now—that I had a normal life instead of this "cursed" one that I was granted. How can I forget the choices I've made? The things I have done—and what I have failed to do.

What is the use of worrying about the past? It is as the saying goes: There is no use in crying over spilled milk. I must heed this advice, here and now, in the sunset of my life.


	18. Parents

**Parents?**

Tell me, Christine, what were your parents like? What's it like to have parents? Adults who _love_ and _care_ for you? A mother who cherishes you and a father willing to do anything to feed and protect you? Parents who dote on you and reminisce fondly on your childhood?

Tell me; is it all worth the pain and loss? Is—or was—it all that they claim to be? If you had a child with me, would you find it in your heart to show it the motherly kindness and love that I was never shown? I never knew mine well.


	19. Perfume

**Perfume**

I miss the smell of your sweet perfume, your wonderful scent. I miss your intoxicating presence, fueling my madness. I shall never know it again, as I am now quite close to death, and you have run off with your lover, the _boy_ called Raoul.

You may be gone for good, yet your scent lingers on in your room, the Louis-Philippe room, brining me to my knees every time I enter as I remember your sweet face. I fear I'll die if I continue in this way for much longer… Will you keep your promise to me when I die?


	20. Teach her

**Teach Her**

The glorious sound of our voices rising together! Oh, how I wish I could have been a normal man! If I had been born normal, I would have taken the world by storm! But alas, I must be content with being heard by one person alone in this part of my life. My voice reaches out and molds the ingénue's voice until it seems to come from heaven itself—and the audience will be none-the-wiser about the miracle of her sound.

With my teaching, and her belief in the Angel of Music sent by her father in heaven, she'll go far.


End file.
